The List of Dread
by Firefly Fairy In A Bottle
Summary: Summer has finally rolled around, and Dib and Zim have both been forced to go to the same summer camp. With Keef lingering around, it's shaping up to be the worst summer ever. . . but will something unexpected happen instead? Either way, it's gonna suck. Lots of ZaDR.
1. Let the Disaster Begin

**AN- Alright. . . funny story behind this. It was supposed to be a one-shot of just the first day of their trip. But that alone was looking like it was gonna be around 10,000 words. . . which is **_**way**_** too long for a one-shot. So here we are.**

**Obviously this will contain some ZaDR. I don't know how far it's gonna go; I haven't planned past the first day. So for now this is K+. Just keep in mind it could be changed to T. But no M. Definitely no M rating. It will be a bit eventual, and I can tell I'm gonna have a lot of fun on the character arcs with this one.**

**Now, the only real IZ characters in this are Dib, Zim, and Keef. Others are mentioned, but (probably) won't appear. So that means OCs. Filler OCs. They aren't Mary Sues or Gary** **Stus, I'm sure.**

**The first two chapters have already been written, and I'm halfway through the third. They'll be released eventually. Reviews would help me update faster, though. . . ;D**

This sucks. This really, really sucks. Out of all the suckiest situations Dib has been thrown into in his thirteen-year-old life, _this_ takes the cake in suckosity. What sucks, you ask? Maybe it's the fact that his dad forced him to go to summer camp. Maybe it's the fact that his dad only did this because he was convinced it would make his "poor, insane son," less "insane." Maybe it's the fact that the bus is crowded and loud and Dib can barely hear himself _think_. Or _maybe_ it's the fact that he's been forced to sit next to his worst enemy; green skin, no ears, and all.

Yep, that last one is the knockout. Dib has been forced to sit next to Zim, of all creatures. _Zim_, the alien menace. Expect nobody can actually _tell_ he's an alien because they're all to _dense_ to get it into their _thick skulls_!

Dib has pretty much given up at this point. Besides, he's finally come to realize that Zim can't conquer. . . well, for a lack of better description, anything. But even so, their hatred for each other has hardly simmered down– the same fighting, the same insults, the same tackles, the same plans to conquer the Earth.

But was it wrong to say it was getting old?

That aside, Dib and Zim had hardly spoken a word to each other after getting onto the bus. This was mostly because they had fought before hand– and it hadn't ended well. Zim had been the first to snap, pushing Dib to the ground and pouncing on top of him. But Dib had longer arms and legs, and quickly got the upper hand by flipping Zim over and pinning him to the cement. It wasn't long at all until the bus driver had to pry them away from each other.

But of course, Dib couldn't help but wonder. . . why was Zim going to summer camp anyways? Maybe his pet robot had talked him into it. Or maybe he just needed to get away from the Robo-Parents for a while. Or maybe. . . of course! Zim must have some sort of secret evil plan to. . . to destroy the campgrounds! That filthy little rat. . . ! How dare he destroy Mother Nature like that! All the squirrels and the trees and the moo–. . . Dib takes that back. Zim can destroy all the moose he likes.

Then again, Dib shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe Zim (for once) _didn't_ have ulterior motives. Maybe he– as unlikely as it sounded– just wanted to have a good time. . . . There was no harm in asking, right?

". . . Zim?" he says warily. Why is he so nervous? This is just _Zim_ we're talking about, nothing too out of the ordinary there.

"What?" Zim answers bitterly. He doesn't look at Dib; he's still facing the other direction with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Why are you even _going_ to summer camp, anyways? Got any secrets plans I should know about?" He rested his hands on the bus seat and leaned forward eagerly– yes. It was just eagerness that was making his heart race.

Zim takes a glance at the human, then turns his head slightly and looks at him, as if he was making sure that looking at Dib was safe. "Nothing that _you_ should know about, Dib-filth," he says shrewdly. "I have come here under the request of. . ." He fell silent, breaking the eye contact and looking to the side dreadfully.

"Your robot dog thingy?" Dib finished.

". . . No."

"That other alien you live with?"

"No."

"Principal Tarts? Oh wait, no, this isn't summer skool. . ."

"Shut your mouth, stink-boy! No!" Zim unfolded his arms and angrily clutched the bus seat. "No. Zim has come here because–"

"Hey, buddy!" A familiar voice shouts out, and Zim stiffens before slowly turning around. Dib leans forward in his seat to get a better look.

Oh, _no_!

Keef is standing in his seat, waving exaggeratedly at Zim, a huge smile blossoming on his face. "Hey there, Zim! I've been looking all over trying to figure out where you were sitting, and I–" The boy sitting next to him– dark brown hair and even darker eyes– tugs the hem of his shirt as a way of telling him to sit down. His face is half-deadpan the whole time. Keef looks over to him, then smiles and nods. "Okay, then!" he calls out to Zim. "Bye, buddy!"

Dib slumps in his seat as Keef sits down, letting out a small groan. After a few seconds, he just barely tilts his head to look at Zim. "Don't tell me–"

Zim expertly interrupts. "It was Keef."

Dib groans again. This really, really, _really_ sucks.

* * *

"Good afternoon, boys and girls!" Dib shifts in his seat as the happy, cheery voice captivates the campers. They're sitting outside on a half-circle of bleachers– what's known as the "outatorium." He's hasn't gotten away from Zim, and it's all Keef's fault. The red-head had quickly claimed a spot next to Zim, and begged– no, _forced_– Dib to sit with them.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed boy is there, too. It's likely to say that Keef had made friends with him during the bus ride– Keef wants to be friends with everybody. And it seems this boy is rather quiet, so he probably doesn't have many friends, either. When Dib thinks about it, he's almost glad Keef has a quiet friend– maybe he can tone Keef down a notch.

But back on topic. Right now, a young woman stands before them, decked in her camp gear. It's obvious she's the camp counselor; her hair and eyes practically shine with glee. "I'm Ms. Midnoon!" she exclaims with a smile. "And this is Mr. Woodknot!" She waves one hand towards the short man standing beside her, who frowns.

"It's Mr. Walnut."

Ms. Midnoon's smile fades, and her eyes lose their shine as she glares harshly at Mr. Walnut. "Don't back talk me, ya hear?" She looks back to the children and smiles once more. "Welcome to Sunny Summer Camp! We hope you enjoy your week here!" She tilts her head and scans the bleachers. "We sure do have a lot of happy campers here! I think it's about time to split you into cabins! Don't you agree, Mr Waldorf?"

"It's Walnut–"

"I _said_, shut the hell up!"

Mr. Walnut cowers, and Ms. Midnoon continues gleefully. "Now, each cabin will have four children, and each team will have two cabins. That means each team will have eight children! Understand?"

There's silence until one kid says, "Yeah. . . I'm not good at math."

"Perfect!" Ms. Midnoon cries. "Now, the first team is Angel Camp. The girls cabin will be–"

Every girl in the outatorium sits on the edge of her seat as Ms. Midnoon reads out the names.

"Tix. . . Abby. . . Noemi. . . and Yeci! Have fun!" she shouts as the four said girls are ushered off by camp counselors.

"Now, as for the boys," she smiles. Dib finds himself clutching his hands together, unsure if he wants Zim in his cabin or not. "Zim. . . Keef. . . Quinn. . . and Dib!" Her smile grows brighter, as if she knows a disaster is unfolding. "Have fun!" she repeats, and with that the four boys are pushed in the right direction by camp counselors.

Great. Just great. Just happy dandy la-di-do-da.

This is truly a recipe for disaster.

**AN- Chapter one clocks in at about 1,278 words. Not bad.**

**Well, if you'd like more, all I have to say is– review! Chapter 2 is much longer, and there's a bit of ZaDR. . .**


	2. Not So Happy Campers

**AN- Damn you guys are fast. Four reviews in less than a day! So, as promised, here is your chapter two.**

**But first, a note about Quinn. He's the kid who was with Keef earlier. Another funny story with him. He was originally planned to be like a male version of Gaz, without the temper. But then I wanted to make him like Ferb. Cool, calm– he just doesn't talk much. But then he turned out like this. Shy and sweet and ADORABLE. You guys are gonna luff him. I know I do.**

"Ohhh, won't this be fun, guys?" Keef says to his bestest friends as he takes a teal sleeping bag out of his overstuffed backpack. He unrolls it and sets it on his bed– the bottom bunk; he's sharing with Zim.

"Very fun," Zim agrees in a tone that suggests it will not be. He's already set up his bunk, and is sitting on his sleeping bag, knees held up against his chest. It seems the Irken prefers being elevated high away from the others. A spider lowers itself right it front of his face, and he merely blows it away. This backfires when the spider swings right back into his face. Zim shrieks and swats at his face repeatedly, chanting, "Get it off, get it off, get it off!"

"Right between the eyes. . . ," Quinn, the dark-haired boy, mumbles as he climbs up the latter to the top bunk– he's sharing with Dib, of course.

Keef flattens his sleeping bag out on the bed before getting chatty again. "We can play board games and stay up late talking and tell scary stories and eat ca–"

"S-scary stories?" Quinn says softly, and yet it's somehow enough to get Keef to stop his rant.

Zim, who has succeeded in getting rid of the spider, leans forward on his knees. "You scared, human?" he smirks deviously, and Quinn falters.

"N-no! I-I. . . I just. . . ," he reaches into his bag and pulls out a fluffy brown teddy bear. He squeezes it tightly, "don't like being scared. That's all."

"Is that a _bear_?" Zim says suspiciously. If he had eyebrows, one would be raised.

"I-I. . . ," Quinn looks to the ground, face turning red. "Um. . ."

"Stop picking on him, Zim!" Dib snarls. He reaches down and pulls out a small doll. He really hadn't wanted to show anyone this– it was supposed to be a secret– but he felt that it would make Quinn feel better. The doll had been originally made for voodoo purposes, but when that had failed, he had kept it. Why, he still doesn't know. But it's comforting, in a strange sense. The doll, though crudely made, resembles Zim, in his alien form. Dib tries to hide an oncoming blush as he holds it out towards Quinn. "See? I have one, too."

Quinn blinks at it, and a small smile envelopes his face. Zim's reaction, however, is not so sweet.

"What is _that_?" he says, crawling forward to the edge of his bunk. His face is turning blue as he stares at the little plushie, lavender eyes wide.

"I-it's a doll-thing! Now shut up!" Dib snaps, stuffing the doll back into his bag. Zim can't say anything about it being him– that would mean admitting he's an alien, and Dib knows how unlikely _that_ is.

Zim seems to know that too, since he slumps forward onto his sleeping bag, resting his cheeks in his gloved palms. He sticks his feet up, kicking them back and forth in a strange rhythm. He pouts as he stares straight ahead, looking already bored with summer camp.

"Hello, campers!" says a young man, poking his head into the room. "I'm Mr. Whitemore, and I'll be your team leader!" He smiles. "I just wanna tell you to meet up at the picnic tables in twenty minutes!"

"Got it!" Keef responds cheerily, ending with a mock salute.

"Now _that's_ team spirit!" says Mr. Whitemore. "But, um. . . you can lose the salute." He smiles playfully, then disappears.

"Yay, picnic tables!" says Keef, excited. "I wonder what we're gonna do?"

Dib is more concerned about distance. "Our cabin is the farthest from the picnic tables. . . It might take a while to get there."

"How long?" asks Zim, kicking his legs still.

Dib stares at the map they had been given of the campgrounds, narrowing his eyes as he estimates the distance, and just how long it will take. He tries to ignore Keef, who leans over his shoulder to look, too. "About fifteen minutes."

"_How big is this campground?_" Zim shrieks, sitting up with such sudden force that it makes the bed shake.

"I don't know!" Dib cries. "It's just an estimate, anyways. It might not take that long. . ."

"We could leave now. . . ," suggests Quinn, who's climbing up the latter to his bunk bed, teddy bear held tightly in his arms. "Being early wouldn't be so bad." He shrugs slightly and gingerly sets the bear down on top of his sleeping bag.

"Yeah. . . ," agrees Dib, rolling up the map and setting it on a tiny table nearby. "I guess it would be nice to be there before the girls."

"Yes!" says Zim, practically leaping down from the bed. "Let us beat the filthy Earth girls to the picnic tables!" Before anyone (namely Dib) can object, he rushes out of the room, eager to beat the girls in a race they don't know they're competing in. The next to follow is Keef, giggling merrily as he zooms outside. Quinn, noticing them leaving, gasps and jumps off the last step of the latter and to the ground, running after them.

Dib slowly picks himself up, sighing. Why does Zim have to be so. . . so overzealous? It only gets him into trouble. . . And it's bound to get Dib into trouble, too. He begins to drag himself towards the door, but then he catches eye of Quinn's teddy bear, placed gently on top of his violet sleeping bag.

Hardly paying attention to what he's doing, Dib takes a step back, stoops down, and takes the Zim doll out of his bag. It's not the best– his sister could do better without even trying– but it makes him smile. He runs his thumb across the side of it's swollen head and swiftly lifts up his pillow, placing the Zim doll under it. No one would ever know.

"Dib! C'mon! We're waiting for you!" Dib hears Keef call out, and he almost laughs imagining the boy waving one arm over his head, the other cupped near his mouth to make his voice louder.

"Not all of us willingly!" Zim adds, startling Dib out of whatever nightmare world had put him in a trance. He heaves a sigh and sets the pillow down, hiding the doll.

"Coming!"

* * *

As it turns out, they're already too late, as they see the girls walking by in the other direction. Zim's eyes grow wide, and he takes a rushing leap forward. "We must defeat them!" he cries out, causing the girls to look their way.

"Cool it, Zim," Dib says in a strained whisper. " There's no race. Besides, they're already looking our way."

Zim frowns, crossing his arms. "Fine," he mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Keef smiles as he looks back at the girls. "Maybe we should get to know them! They _are_ part of our team!" he says brightly. "It could be fun!" Without even waiting for a response, he waves the girls over. "Hi!" he cries out.

The girls look at each other warily, before finding their way towards the boys. Muffled whispers are heard as they come closer.

"Hi!" Keef says, breaking the silence. "I'm Keef!" He looks towards Quinn, who's staring at his feet as he walks, face turning pink. Seeing as he's too nervous to introduce himself, Keef says, "He's Quinn!"

One of the girls with short, curly brown hair raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she stares at Zim skeptically. "Who's the green kid?"

"You may address me as Zim," Zim says proudly, setting his hands on his hips. He points towards Zim with the claw that would be his thumb. "This is the Dib-Stink."

Dib scowls, glaring at the shorter. "It's just _Dib_."

Zim sticks his tongue out at him indignantly. The group falls silent for a moment, before Zim says in surprise, "What? Nothing about me being an alien?"

Dib shrugs. "What's the point? They'll just think I'm crazy."

One girl who was leaning forward to look at them suddenly pulls back, holding her nose. "He sure _smells_ like an alien," she says, brown eyes narrowing.

"How do _you_ know what an alien smells like?" Zim asks, rather insulted. How _dare_ this girl call him smelly! It was the Dib-Beast that was stinky!

"I _don't_," she says, stepping forward to glare sharply at Zim. "But I'm pretty sure no _normal_ person smells like _that_."

"Well. . . Well. . . ," Zim looks from face to face, struggling to find the right words to say. Finally he settles with, "Your face is stupid!"

"Your's is stupider," she replies, sticking out her tongue. Zim sputters, making Dib laugh. He decides he likes this girl. "I'm Abby," she says, satisfied with the look on Zim's face.

"I'm Yeci," mutters the girl with curly brown hair. Her eyes are darker than Quinn's, and that trait all on its own makes Dib shiver.

"My name's Noemi!" announces a girl with long lavender hair. (Why do so many girls have purple hair?)

"I'm Tix," says a blonde girl, who looks more interested in staring at herself in her compact mirror and reapplying her lipgloss. Most boys would find her attractive– blonde hair, purple eyes, tan skin– but Dib can see the fakeness oozing out her every pore.

"Nice to meet you all!" Keef cries, overwhelmed with the whole slew of new faces. "I love making new friends!"

"Friends?" says Tix, looking up from her compact mirror. "Not with the likes of you."

"I've already been forced to have enough friends. . . ," mumbles Yeci, her dark eyes glancing at each of the other girls.

"I dunno. . . ," says Abby, looking to the side. "You're kinda. . . scruffy. No offense."

"None taken," says Keef, still smiling. She turns towards Noemi. "What about you, Noemi? Will you be my friend?"

"Keef, right?" she asks, smiling slightly. After Keef nods, her smile grows wider and she says, "Sure, why not?"

"Why not?" Abby whispers bitterly as she pulls Noemi to the side. It's a really loud whisper– there's no doubt that everyone can hear them. "Just look at him, Noemi! And his friends! What freaks! Especially that green kid!"

Dib smiles triumphantly. Maybe this girl really _can_ tell that he's an alien! As Abby parts away from Noemi, he rushes up to her, trying to start a conversation. Abby disregards him, giving him nonchalant, bored answers, but Dib could care less. The excitement overtakes him so much that he doesn't notice Zim glaring daggers at him.

This Earth girl infuriates him for reasons he cannot comprehend. All he knows is that the more Dib smiles listening to her, the more he wants to run her over with his Voot cruiser. (If only it were here!) Could this be. . . That "jelly" that humans spoke of? Zim knows little about it, but has spent long enough on Earth to understand that it's some sort of human emotion, similar to envy.

But why should Zim care if Dib is conversing with some obnoxious Earth girl? Really, why should he care? Look, she doesn't even like him! She hardly responds to his excited talking! She just shrugs and utters a few words in response! It makes Zim so angry he could just, he could just. . . oh, that pitiful Earth creature! He will _destroy_ her the next chance he gets! No. . . no. Why does he even care? She's just walking the Dib-thing. . . making him smile. . . hardly giving him any attention. . . and all through this, Dib is absolutely oblivious to how much this girl dislikes him! It makes Zim absolutely _sick _to his squeedlyspooch!

And he has absolutely no idea why. All he knows is that this "Abby" is going to experience much pain later. Yes, she will suffer the wrath of Zim, if she is not careful. Just you wait.

**AN- Uh oh. . . Zim, what are you gonna do to her? This chapter came in at almost 2,000 words! Nice! I think 1,941 was the exact number. . . or something like it.**

**I was trying really hard for a character Dib could quickly develop a *slight* crush on, without her being a Mary Sue. So I figured the best way to do that was to make her. . . well, to be blunt, a total biotch. So here we have Abby, whom I hate. I'm not too fond of Tix either, and I'm "meh" about Yeci. I really like Noemi, however. And as I said, I love Quinn.**

**Hmm. . . could I be hinting at something, maybe?**

**So, keep on reviewing guys! I have more planned, and Chapter 3's got some DRAMA.**


	3. Jealous Much?

**AN- Here we go with the drama~ You better be ready, cuz it's about to get GOOD.**

Zim is still fuming by the time the group reaches the picnic tables. It's like Dib just _can't_ shut up! It's "alien this, alien that, Zim, Zim, Zim." Normally Zim wouldn't mind this, but Dib's talking to this girl with a large, excited smile planted on his large, excited head! Zim can't stand it. He clenches and unclenches his fists over and over, trying to calm himself.

"Alright, campers!" says Mr. Whitemore, standing in front of the table, where there's bowls, wooden spoons, flour, eggs, cornmeal. . . and what appears to be a small, old-fashioned oven. "To start the day off, we'll be making cornbread!"

"Oh, yay!" says Keef. The rest of the group is mostly silent. Honestly, Keef would be happy if Mr. Whitemore were to tell them they were writing essays on the lifespan of dust bunnies. "Cornbread is yummy! Don't you think so, Quinn?" So Quinn is the top tier, it seems. Thank goodness.

"Yeah. . . ," Quinn says softly, smiling slightly.

"Great!" Mr. Whitemore says, smiling brightly. "You ready to get started?"

Keef's eyes sparkle, and he nods enthusiastically. "Yes, yes!" He rushes to the table, grabbing a bowl and holding a spoon up like a baton. "I'm ready!" Noemi is the next to follow suit, giggling as she picks up a bowl and a spoon and pantomimes mixing batter. Quinn shyly walks over after, standing on the other side of Keef as he picks up a wooden spoon and turns it over in his hand. He leans forward slightly and looks at Noemi, before leaning back again and looking back at his spoon, blushing. Tix and Yeci sit down at the other side of the table, whispering furtively to each other while they look at the other group with disdainful eyes. Abby sits next to them, surprisingly quiet as she tolerates Dib, who sits directly across from her, still blabbering. Zim is the last to sit, choosing to plop down next to Dib, scowling.

"So you'll see that there's a stack of paper in the middle of the table. That's the recipe." Each child reaches forward and grabs a sheet for themselves. "You'll each make your own batch of batter, which we'll mix together at the end and bake altogether! Does that sound good to everyone?"

They all smile and nod. . . all except for Zim, who is reaching for his sheet of paper. Just as he lifts it up, however, there is a tug on the other side of it. He looks up, glaring at whoever _dares _to pull on his sheet of paper. Abby is holding onto the other side of the paper, her brown eyes narrowed dangerously. "This is _my_ recipe," she hisses, taking another pull on the paper. "I grabbed it first." She nods at the last sheet of paper, thickly coated in flour. "You can have that one."

Zim grumbles as he releases the sheet and snatches up the flour-covered paper. Oh, she _will_ pay. Not now. But very, very soon. Oh yes, she will regret the very day she ever messed with _Zim_!

Apparently, very soon is even sooner than Zim had expected. Just as Zim finishes his batter, he hears a soft, fleeting, sort of _cute_ chuckle from beside him. But. . . no. No! The Dib is not _cute_! Why would he even _think _that? Now, what on Earth is Dib so. . . so _giggley_ about?

Zim looks up. The Abby-Beast. Of course. How dare she make Zim think stupid things about the Dib-Stink? How _dare_ she? She has no right to make Dib smile and laugh, just by ignoring him! Only _Zim_ can treat Dib that way! That pitiful little. . . Oh, Zim will show her pain and humiliation like she has never known before!

Zim lunges forward, launching himself onto the table, knocking over his bowl of batter. All eyes are on him as he yanks Abby forward, her brown eyes wide as she shrieks. Pathetic human. He takes her and pins her to the table, all while taking a large scoop of cornbread batter out of his fallen bowl. He smashes it into her face, and she makes muffled sounds of objection as she tries to shove him off of her.

At last she succeeds, although barely as she wipes the batter away from her eyes. She grabs her bowl and dumps the contents of it over Zim's head. Zim growls as he finds his wig thickly coated in the sticky substance. He's neglected to bring a spare. . . Oh, how this will be a _pain_ to wash!

He grabs a bag of flour from nearby, emptying half of it on Abby's misshapen head. She looks like a ghost when covered in white– it suits her. Abby raises a hand to her head in shock. She scrapes some of the ghostly white off of her hair, revealing the haunting black underneath.

She pounces on Zim, repeatedly whapping him with a wooden spoon. She isn't too powerful, but the hits still sting. Zim is about to retaliate when–

"Zim! Abby!" the pair is quickly yanked apart by Mr. Whitemore, who scowls as they retreat back to the other sides of the table. "I'm disappointed in both of you." Zim almost rolls his eyes. As if he hasn't heard this before. "I thought you could handle such responsibility, but now I see that we'll just have to make cornbread some other day."

"What does cornbread have to do with responsibility?" Dib interjects, raising an eyebrow.

Mr. Whitemore shushes him. "Now, I want you two to both apologize to each other. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Whitemore," Abby and Zim chorus, looking at each other uncertainly. Their eyes narrow, and they silently battle over who speaks first.

Zim decides to take the initiative, and he grumbles, "I am so very sorry, Abby-Filth, for giving you the medicine you so rightfully needed to drink."

Abby forces a smile, but her glare hardly subsides. "I forgive you, Zim," she says through gritted teeth. "And _I'm_ sorry for doing absolutely _nothing_ to upset you."

"Apology _accepted_."

Mr. Whitemore smiles. "Good! Now why don't you all take a break, hmm? I think we all need one."

"What about the mess?" asks Dib, his eyes scanning the mess of batter, flour, and kitchen utensils.

"The squirrels will eat it."

"Oo-_kay_ then. . ."

* * *

"Honestly, Zim! Sometimes I just can't believe you! Do you think violence is the answer to. . . well, _everything_? You don't just go tackling people for no good reason! What did _she_ ever do to _you_? Huh? . . . Are you even _listening_?" Dib glares to his right, where Zim sits, obviously distracted by something else. He's so rude.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, that's very nice, Dib-Stink."

"Would you _stop_ calling me that?"

Zim just lightly growls, resting his chin on his palm. He clearly isn't paying attention. Dib crosses his arms and turns away from him, frowning. Sometimes he hates Zim so much. . .

Wait. No. All the time.

Zim's eyes narrow as he stares across the cafeteria. He's rested his gaze on Abby, who is currently obtaining her food (which appears to be edible by human standards). The girl looks ridiculous with that dried batter in her hair. . . It looks disgustingly crusty, so much so that it almost makes Zim shudder. _Almost. _But mostly he just glares. There's also flour still stuck to her grey shirt. It reminds Zim of clouds blocking out the sun. Except Abby is anything but sunny.

She catches his gaze as she walks by, and glares back for a moment before looking ahead.

"Oh– Abby!" Abby flinches, her eyes riveting in the direction of Dib, who is waving to her.

She clenches her teeth and stubbornly turns away, letting out a quiet, "Hmph!" as she walks away. Tix, Yeci, and Noemi follow– but not before Noemi manages a small smile, waving at Keef and Quinn. Tix slaps her hand down, glaring at her accusingly.

"Don't talk to them," she hisses. Noemi obeys, risking a small glance back at the table.

Dib turns to Zim, who is still staring after the girls, his jaw set at an odd angle. He glares hard at Zim, but it's hopeless– Zim won't look at him. Oh, screw it– why should he _need_ Zim to look at him? "Look what you've done now, Zim! Abby _hates_ me!"

Zim turns his head so suddenly that Dib almost jumps. "She never liked you much in the first place," he points out, his voice laced with venom. "All she did was just frown and nod and _tolerate_ you. She didn't even care! Zim could do that if he _felt_ like it!"

"That's just it, isn't it?" Dib says, leaning closer to the alien without even realizing it. "You feel like it– you never will! All you can do is harass me; you don't even try to tolerate me." He stands up, picking up his tray. "And I actually thought I might make some friends on this trip."

"You have us," Keef offers, his smile blinding in its brightness. "Me and Quinn– we're your friends, right?"

Dib's glare subsides, but his face is still deadpan. "Maybe. . . I guess." He looks back to his tray, still in his hands, and hesitantly sits back down. He was going to leave. . . but that would be pointless. He'd just be stuck in his cabin, all alone; and Zim would show up sooner or later. So he'll stay. For now.

Next to him, Zim frowns, resting his chin in his palm again.

**AN- 1,610 words. Pretty good.**

**Keep those reviews coming! I'm halfway done with Chapter 4, and I think it's turning out really well.**


	4. It's Not Like He Planned It Like This

**AN- This chapter turned out GREAT. I read the first half at my writing group, and it started a very interesting discussion.**

**Off-topic, I like listening to classic Disney songs while writing these.**

**WARNING: This chapter contains marshmallow abuse.**

Zim stares at the flaming white ball. He just holds it, lets it sit there, staring at it intensely. He presses his feet against the ground, shifting in his seat. He grips the stick in his hands and growls, taking his silent fury out on the fireball. He lifts the stick up, holding it tightly, rises from his seat, and–

"Zim. . . Your marshmallow's on fire again."

Zim turns to glare at the lavender-haired girl, loosening his grip on the stick a bit. He lowers it slightly. "I knew that." He waves it around a bit until the flame dies out, and then sits down, mumbling something bitterly under his breath.

Noemi just shrugs and looks back to her own marshmallow, which is hardly a golden-brown. She rotates her stick a bit, roasting the other side.

"Remember, Noemi," Tix warns in a piercing tone. "No conversing with the enemy."

"Whatever. . . ," Noemi grumbles, rolling her eyes as she pulls her stick back from the campfire. She frowns and plucks the marshmallow off of the stick, promptly stuffing it in her mouth.

The eight children sit in a circle on logs around said campfire. Hardly any of them look happy– Yeci is staring at her marshmallow sadistically as she burns it; Abby is staring off into space, lacking a fluffy white ball of sugar; Noemi is making exaggerated chewing sounds as she eats her marshmallow, which appears to be annoying Tix; Quinn keeps taking nervous looks at the pair; Keef is oblivious, smiling as he finishes making his umpteenth s'more that day; and Dib is glaring irritatedly at Zim, who is stomping out a small fire caused by yet another burnt marshmallow.

Zim is acting. . . odd, if you can call it that. He takes yet another marshmallow out of a nearby bag and skewers the stick through it, scowling. He holds it out over the fire and just stares at it as it burns. But that's not the strange part. The strange part is the _way_ Zim stares at the marshmallow. It's not sadistic or angry; there's no fire in his eyes. He just stares at it blankly, bored, before one of two things happen– 1.) The marshmallow catches on fire and Zim puts it out, only half as violently as he normally would; or 2.) The marshmallow falls off the stick, the charred remains falling into the flames below.

He's distracted, Dib can tell. The marshmallow must be his way of venting– he's taking his anger out on it. Or, at least, that's what Dib would think if Zim wasn't acting so calm. It's like Zim has been possessed– he just watches the marshmallow burn, puts out the fire, and moves on. No yelling, no complaining, no holding back fits of rage. Just marshmallows.

It scares Dib more than he would've expected it to. He watches Zim repeat the process, almost wincing as the sugar catches fire once more. Zim just pouts, narrows his eyes, lifts the stick up to his level, and blows on it until the flame goes out. Then he pulls the blackened remains off and discards it into the fire.

Dib decides to say something, but not because he cares. He decides to say something because Zim is _seriously_ weirding him out, and he's beginning to get worried. Er. . . that is. . . about how many marshmallows they'll have left after this distasteful massacre.

"Zim, stop it. You're wasting marshmallows." Dib frowns at Zim, literally looking down at the green-skinned boy. While Dib has grown to be about 5'3'', Zim stands (right now he's sitting, but that's off-topic) at a height of just five feet.

Zim looks back at him, pulling yet another unfortunate marshmallow away from the flames. "Why do you care, human? You don't appear to be eating any of them." He was right. Dib didn't care for sweets much, so he had early on passed on making s'mores. Still, he sits here for reasons even he is unsure of.

"I don't. But maybe the _others_ want them." He looks up, hoping for some back up.

Abby stares off into space still, disregarding the others. Yeci almost– _almost_– grins as her marshmallow bursts into flames. Noemi catches Dib's gaze and merely shrugs. Tix stares in her compact mirror, fixing her hair. Quinn smiles a bit, shrugging in the same fashion as Noemi did. Keef smiles and says, "Zim can use as many as he wants! I still have plenty!" He holds up a half-full bag, shaking it slightly.

Dib turns away from them, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Whatever." He glances back at Zim, his eyes narrowing. "But seriously– stop it."

"Why should I?" says Zim defiantly, before blowing out another marshmallow-fire.

"Because it's bothersome," replies Dib, leaning in closer to Zim and gritting his teeth.

"How so?" Dib can see the ghost of a smirk creeping onto Zim's face, and it makes his stomach churn. Or maybe not _churn_. . . but his stomach does _something_, and it makes him feel sick.

"You're acting really weird. . ." He's confident in his speaking at first, but as he realizes what he's saying, he trails off, leaning back abruptly.

Zim himself seems taken aback by such a statement. "I'm. . . what?"

Dib tries to stop the words, but now that's he's dove in, he can't swim back to the surface, and the words just overflow, spilling out of his mouth. "You're not acting as angry as you usually do. You're just staring at the marshmallows, and then you don't even get mad when they catch fire!" He gently places a hand over his own mouth, careful not to say anything more. He doesn't know what he _would_ say, were he to continue, but he's afraid to find out.

"Oh. . . alright," Zim says awkwardly, lowering the stick where a marshmallow would reside. His cheeks are turning an odd shade of blue– almost an aquamarine. Dib feels his own face turn red. He stands, brushing imaginary dust off of his pants.

"I'm going to bed," he says as he turns and walks away. He looks up to the sky, taking in the way the grey clouds stand out, even in the dark.

Zim stares after him, clutching the stick tightly in two clawed hands.

* * *

"Six!" cries Keef as the die hits the floor. He smiles and moves his red gingerbread man six spaces forward. He looks to Quinn, nudging the die forward with his index finger. "Your turn!"

Quinn picks up the die and, after rolling a four, moves his player forward.

Zim stares at them from up in his bed, frowning. They're playing some sort of strange Earth game, where you throw a cube and then move plastic pieces around on a board. The pieces look like little men, but the men look wimpy and pudgy, and they're colored oddly– bright reds and blues and greens. The board is filled with pictures of strange looking people, and candy– so much candy.

Keef notices him staring, and glances up, smiling. "You wanna play, Zim?"

Zim scrunches his mouth to one side. "I'll pass." He's laying on his stomach, his head rested in his hands. Keef, sitting on his knees, just shrugs and looks back to the game, hardly fazed by Zim's behavior.

Zim glances down at the other bed. A lump resides in the blue sleeping bag. Zim's frown grows, and he looks away. He fights a sigh, not wanting to show weakness– _ever_. This is all he's seen of Dib since they returned to the cabin– just a sad little lump with a jet black scythe poking out from the top of the bag. It seems stupid, but it makes Zim sort of sad, too.

Something pitter-patters against the roof of the cabin. Zim stiffens, hunching his shoulders. Dammit! The dark clouds should have been a giveaway! Why, oh why didn't he pack paste? If it rains over night, it'll still be wet outside by the next day, which means. . .

Zim shudders. This is not good. This is not good at all. More than that, it's terrible! It's practically a disaster!

Quinn looks up and frowns, his face suggesting deep thought. "It's raining."

"No, really?" is Zim's response. He squirms into his sleeping bag, feeling uncomfortable with the sound of raindrops hitting the wooden roof.

Quinn stares off into space for a second, before saying carefully, "My sister said there might be thunder."

"Thunder?" Zim echoes, unfamiliar with the word.

But Quinn mistakens it as an "Are you sure?", and he nods. "Yep."

Keef looks at Quinn, his expression almost curious. "It's been years since we've had a thunderstorm around here. . ."

Quinn smiles a bit as his turns his gaze towards the red-head. "Yeah. . . I love thunderstorms."

Keef's eyes grow a little wider. "Really?"

Quinn nods happily. "They're exciting."

Keef smiles again, his eyes sparkling. "I know! I love them, too! I'll hardly sleep tonight, I'll be so excited!"

While the pair share their experiences, Zim sits up in bed, looking at them oddly. A thunderstorm. . . He had never heard of such a term. What was it? He considers asking, but then remembers he must appear normal to both boys. He pouts, staring at his pillow. Well, he'll figure out just what makes this storm special, and then he'll never have to ask ever again.

He lays down, resting his head against the pillow. Closing his eyes, he decides he'll worry about the rain tomorrow.

Still, his posture is tense.

**AN- 1,570 words! Sound good? Good!**

**So the list begins! After this, each chapter will begin with a few add-ons to the "List of Dread". Get it?**

**Also, I've finally planned out day 2! It was really easy, actually. It's going to be a very eventful day, but I don't think there's gonna be a whole lot of ZaDR. But that could change!**

**On the other hand, does anyone have any ideas I could use? Your own experiences and such? I already have a lot of big events planned, but that doesn't mean I can't squeeze in more!**

**The next chapter is gonna be GOOD, guys. So review!**


	5. Taken By Storm

**AN- Not much to say, here. . . Except I must explain some things real quick.**

**Yes, Irkens **_**can**_** cry,** **first of all– it's just not water, I suppose. Mopiness of Doom has it scripted that it **_**looks like Zim might cry**_**. That's implying that Irkens can cry. . . and there was that one other time in. . . Mysterious Mysteries, I think. His eyes got all teary for a while. Psssh, if a robot can cry, so can Zim.**

**Secondly, in my headcanon, Irkens can and do sleep. Just. . . less than humans. For example, a full grown human needs about eight hours of sleep, whereas the Tallests would need around four. Zim needs about five hours of sleep, but that's really the bare minimum. He can and most likely will sleep longer. So THERE.**

Dib turns over in bed again, almost groaning as he groggily opens his eyes. Keef and Quinn have finally– _finally!_– turned the lights off and went to bed, but Dib _still_ can't sleep. He's totally _exhausted_, but sleep just isn't coming to him. And this thunderstorm really isn't helping matters. Every time he thinks he's about to fall asleep, a loud _boom!_ takes over the room, and he's awake again.

He sits up in bed, rubbing one eye. He almost groans. He's certainly not getting any sleep at this rate. So he'll do what he always does– occupy himself with something else in hopes that he'll be so exhausted afterwards that he'll just pass out. He reaches over and takes his glasses off of the tiny table by the side of the bed, placing them on the bridge of his nose. Then he grabs what was placed under his glasses– a bright red spiral notebook. Except it's not so bright in the dark. The color looks more like a faded crimson in this light.

Dib reaches under his pillow and pulls out a small pocket flashlight. He ignores the feeling he gets in his stomach when his fingers brush over the Zim doll– it's the same feeling he got when he saw the slight smirk on Zim's face earlier that night. He presses a button on the back of the flashlight, and a dim light flickers on. He smiles slightly and pulls a pen out of the notebook's spiral. He opens the notebook to the first page. He puts the pen up to his mouth and thinks for a moment, waiting for an idea to come to him. The smile fades as it does, and he looks down, scrawling the words down on the top line.

_Things that suck about summer camp_

The rest just sort of comes to him, and he almost grins as the words just pour out onto the page. God, this summer camp must be more awful than he _thought_ it was. And that's saying something.

_1. Zim is here._

_2. So is Keef._

_3. I'm in the same cabin as both of them._

_4. This thunderstorm is loud and I can't sleep._

_Boom!_ Dib jumps slightly as the thunder takes him completely by surprise. He glances back at the list, before closing the notebook and setting it back down on the table. He then removes his glasses and gently places them on top.

The thunder booms again, and Dib lets out the smallest groan as he lays down. He's extremely tired, but there's no way he'll get _any_ sleep with this storm around.

A sound catches his ear. It's soft, and quiet, and he can't understand why or how he heard it over the deafening patter of rain along the rooftop. The sound repeats itself, and Dib finds himself leaning towards the origin of the sound to hear it more clearly. It sounds almost like a whimper, or maybe a sob. . . the latter is confirmed as he hears quiet sniffling.

The thunderstorm must be scaring Quinn. But no, Dib vaguely remembers Quinn saying thunderstorms excite him. Additionally, the sound isn't coming from above him, but rather, from the other side of the room. But Keef had agreed with Quinn, and Keef definitely doesn't seem like the type to lie. . .

Of course. It all makes so much sense. This _is_ the rain we're talking about, after all.

Dib rises from his pillow, and says; softly, carefully, unsure, ". . . Zim?"

A slight gasp is heard from the other side of the room, and the boy falls silent. At least, until the sound of thunder overtakes the room once more. Then he shrieks, and Dib sees something– no, some_one_– flinch from up in the top bunk.

Yep, that's Zim, alright. Dib frowns, feeling a knot grow in his stomach. "Zim?" he repeats, more confidently. "Are you okay?"

Dib hears him sniffle, before saying, in a broken tone, "Z-Zim is absolutely _fine_!" It's a sharp whisper, and Dib frowns even more at the hostility in it. But there's also something else in Zim's voice– pain, maybe? Oh, _no_, it just _can't_ be– because the great and powerful Zim isn't afraid of _anything_.

Dib shifts in his bed, turning his head so he can get a clear view of Zim– he's in his sleeping bag, but he's sitting up, his knees pulled tightly to his chest. Dib bites his lip uncomfortably; he can almost see the insecurity looming over Zim's head. "You don't _sound_ fine."

Dib sees Zim's arms tighten around his knees. "I assure you, Zim feels perfectly–"

_Boom!_ Zim gasps, and that gasps quickly fades into a sob as he buries his face in his knees. Dib frowns, feeling oddly compelled to. . . to. . . well, he doesn't exactly know what, but whatever he wants to do, it doesn't involve hurting Zim. It's a weird, unfamiliar feeling, and it takes Dib completely by surprise. He feels like it shouldn't, but it does.

"Zim. . . are you _crying_?"

Zim starts to say something– Dib doesn't know what, but it sounds like an objection– before getting cut off by the thunder again. Dib hears a sharp intake of breath, followed by a choked out sob.

Dib looks down at his sleeping bag. "I didn't know Irkens _could_ cry."

Zim sniffs loudly before speaking. "Well, they can. There. Are you happy, human?"

Dib doesn't know what to say. Sure, he's glad to know the information, but he's not really _happy_; in fact, he feels the opposite. But Zim is his enemy– his worst enemy, at that– how could Dib feel sorry for that egotistic, overzealous, short-tempered jerk?

Another loud burst of thunder captivates the room. A quiet shriek is heard from the top bunk, and Zim chokes out another sob. Immediately Dib is at war with himself. He can't just sit here and let Zim suffer. . . but comforting Zim just doesn't seem natural. . . but sometimes Dib should step out of his comfort zone; that's what summer is all about. . . but this is _Zim_ we're talking about; this is his bitter enemy. . . but Zim really needs his help. . . but Zim is perfectly capable on his own; at least, that's what he always says. . . but Zim is a liar. . . but that means he deserves this. . . but–

_Boom!_ A shriek and a sob. Dib hunches his shoulders. It's not hard to see why the thunder frightens Zim– in fact, it more seems like it overwhelms him. He must have not expected the rain; heck, Dib didn't expect it, either. That means he didn't bring paste, so he must be really stressed. His emotions are already on end, and then the thunder. . .

Dib frowns, realizing he _does_ feel bad for Zim. The green boy is practically being tortured by now, and all Dib is doing is just sitting here and watching!

Oh, God. . . He's going to _hate_ himself for this tomorrow. . .

"Zim. . . If you want. . . ," Dib hesitates, becoming aware of just how fast his heart is beating, "You can sleep in my bed."

Zim is silent for a second. Is he considering it? A few quiet sniffles are heard, and then he says, "Zim would never be caught _dead_ sleeping near the likes of _you_!"

Cue thunder. Zim shrieks again, sniffing a few times as he lets a few stray tears fall down his face. He grips his sleeping bag, trying to sort his thoughts out. This thunderstorm, with each blast of thunder, shakes his head, jumbling up his thoughts so he can't think straight. His head spins. Dib is actually offering to help him. This is a rare occurrence in Zim's life, and usually an occurrence he avoids when he can. But dear Tallests, he _really_ needs Dib right now.

And it sort of just flies into his head– he needs _Dib_. Not Keef, not Quinn; just Dib. Accepting help from either of them would be uncomfortable and awkward, but Dib knows Zim best, whether Zim would like to admit it or not. And silently, he does. Dib knows him best. And right now, he needs him.

"On second thought. . . ," Zim mumbles, "I could use a bit of assistance. . ." He wriggles out of his sleeping bag and crawls to the other side of his bed. Reaching the ladder, he drapes one foot over the edge of the bed, finding his footing on the first step. He's taken a few steps down when–

_Boom! _Before Dib can even think, Zim has rushed over to him and flung his arms around his neck, burying his face into his shoulder. Dib feels tears wet his pajama shirt, and he hesitantly wraps his arms around Zim, helping him onto the bed. He unzips his oversized sleeping bag and pulls Zim into it, letting the Irken make himself comfortable. Apparently comfortable is gripping Dib's shirt as he nuzzles up to his chest.

Dib's sleeping bag may be big, but it's still a tight fit. Another boom of thunder rolls through the room, this time accompanied with a short flash of lightning. Zim's gasp is lighter this time, and he grips Dib's shirt tighter as he tries not to cry. They're closer together then they've ever been, and it's odd. . . but it's not half bad. In fact, it's actually sort of. . . pleasant, in some strange way. Dib gently rubs Zim's back, trying to calm him. Zim makes some sort of whimpering sound, but he doesn't appear to be in pain.

He lays his head against Dib's chest, as if declaring some sort of peace– a truce, at least for now. Dib actually smiles a little as another shot of thunder rings through the room, and lightning flashes in the windows. Zim tenses, an his breathing grows heavy, but he's managed to calm down.

The night continues on like this, until at last it seems Zim has fallen asleep. All that crying must have worn him out– he's sleeping so peacefully. Dib smiles slightly at him– his breathing light, his eyes gently closed shut, his wig slightly ruffled from the events of the day. Part of Dib wonders what in the hell he's _thinking_, while the other part decides to do something that surprises even Dib.

He leans forward, just slightly, and plants a small peck of a kiss on Zim's forehead.

He leans away, eyes widen slightly as he realizes what he just did. He doesn't know what came over him. Oh, gosh, maybe his dad is right. . . maybe he really _is_ insane. That's the only explanation for it; or at least the only one that seems to make any sense.

Dib just sighs lightly and closes his eyes, hearing thunder boom again. He settles himself, relaxing his posture and regulating his breathing. He'll probably forget about this tomorrow morning. . .

He hardly notices, or realizes, that his arms as still wrapped around Zim.

**AN- 1,807 words, yeah! That was way too much fun to write. XD This is the most ZaDR you'll get for a little while. . . I've got a few scenes planned for day two, but nothing very big.**

**And so the list begins. . . for real this time! NOW each chapter will begin with the list thing. . . last time was a false alarm, LOL.**

**I've started the next chapter, but I'm not too far through it. I just really wanted to upload this.**


	6. Please Don't Be True

**AN- Guess WHAT? I got a laptop! It's an early birthday present. ;D And I'm super excited because today I'm coloring my hair. My side bang is gonna be HOT PINK, guys. So happy.**

**And on that note, I have a very important question. Do any of you guys make IZ fan videos? You know, with clips from the show? Because I **_**seriously**_** need to figure out where to download all of the episodes. So if any of you can help me with that. . . well, in short, you're a LIFE SAVER.**

**Onto the chapter!**

_Zim is here._

_So is Keef._

_I'm in the same cabin as both of them._

_This thunderstorm is loud and I can't sleep._

_I think I'm actually going insane._

Keef sits up and yawns. Glancing at the clock, he finds out it's 7:39. He smiles. He always has been an early riser. He slips out of his sleeping bag and hops out of bed, ready to start the day. He takes a few steps back and gazes up at the top bunk, wondering if Zim is awake. He's not there, so he must be up. But this cabin is only so big. . . where could he be?

Keef turns around, and is pleasantly surprised to see Zim in Dib's bed; bottom bunk, below Quinn; snuggled closely to the taller, dark-haired boy. Keef feels the sides of his mouth twitch, and before he can stop it—not that he ever would—his face is overtaken by a wide smile. They're absolutely _adorable_! Oh, Keef _knew_ they were friends deep down!

He takes a few tip-toed steps to the side, finding the latter to the top bunk. He takes a few steps up until he comes across Quinn, who's curled up in his bed, asleep. At least Keef _thinks_ he's asleep. But when he first nudges him, he jumps, his dark eyes snapping wide open. He almost shrieks, but covers his mouth with his hands before any real noise comes out. ". . . Oh." His falls as he sees Keef in front of him. In fact, it falls a little _too_ much; so much that Quinn looks a little grumpy. Oh well, a lot of people are grumpy in the morning—it's no big deal! Quinn sighs, rubbing his head. "What do you _want_, Keef?"

Keef smiles again, feeling the excitement bubbling up inside of him. "Come look! Zim and Dib! They're—!"

Quinn comes face to face with Keef, his dark eyes eerily narrowing. "This better be good," he hisses, before forcefully ushering Keef down the latter. Then he climbs down the latter himself, muttering something bitterly under his breath.

Keef hardly takes Quinn's mood into consideration, smiling wildly as he points to the sleeping Zim and Dib. Quinn reaches the floor and looks in their direction, running a hand through his dark hair. His eyes widen as he stares at them. "Oh. . . wow," is all he says, early morning grumpiness forgotten.

"I know!" Keef all but squeals, clasping his hands in front of his chest. "I always knew they were really friends deep down, they just had to—"

Quinn frowns, tilting his head as he stares at the pair. "They seem more than just friendly to me. . ."

Keef absorbs this for a second. More. . . than just. . . friendly? He takes in the way Zim is curled up to Dib, his head resting on the other's chest. He notices how Dib's arms are wrapped around Zim's smaller body, and the way his lips linger just an _inch_ away from Zim's forehead. . .

"So. . . what you're saying is. . . Dib and Zim _like_ each other?"

Quinn blushes slightly, drifting his gaze to the ground. "I guess. . . I-I have nothing against it, really. . . I-I was just thinking—"

"That's _great_!" Keef exclaims, practically jumping a full foot in the air as his smile grows ear-to-ear. Once he reaches solid ground again, he rushes over to Quinn, throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly. Quinn turns an even brighter shade of pink.

"It is? I-I mean. . . it is?"

Keef releases him, instead grabbing firm hold of Quinn's shoulders. "Of _course_ it is! Do you know what this means, Quinn?" he asks excitedly.

"Erm. . . yes?" He looks at Keef unsurely. ". . . No."

Keef's gleeful grin hardly fades. "It _means_ we can set them up together! It's_ perfect_! I mean, they'd be so_ cute_ together! They'll be so happy that we helped them, and they'll finally know that I'm their bestest friend _ ever_!" He looks back to Quinn, his smile turning sheepish. "Er, I mean. . . That _we're_ their bestest friends ever."

Quinn pouts, thinking it through. "I dunno, Keef. . . they might not want to be together. . ." He looks back to Keef, worry shining in his big brown eyes. "And even if they do, what if we mess things up? They could end up hating each other. . . more than they already do, that is."

Keef shoots him a mischievous grin, letting go of his shoulders at last. He waves a hand in casual reassurance, his eyes fluttering shut. "Don't worry, we won't do much. Just a few. . . ," he struggles on how to word it, ". . . nudges in the right direction."

Quinn gives him a weak smile in return. "Alright then. . . but nothing too drastic, okay?"

Keef nods, anticipation coursing through his veins. He clenches his fists in front of him. "Yes! I totally understand!"

As soon as their conversation has ended, a low, loud rumble is heard outside, filled with assorted hisses and shrieks. The noise is so loud that it awakens Dib and Zim, who both jump up, wide-eyed, clutching each other in fear and shock. They tentatively glance at each other, before Zim scowls, shoving Dib with such force that he hits his head against the wall. He hisses in pain as he rubs the bump that will most likely form. Thank God—nothing's changed.

"Wh-what was that?" Quinn stumbles through his words, literally shaking in fear as he stares at the door— the origin of the sound.

Zim rushes out of bed, intent on finding out the source of the strange rumbling that _dared_ to awaken him. He stomps to the door in a huff and yanks open the door, Keef staying close behind him. All they see is the girls huddled outside of the cabin across from them. Tix is on her knees, with her arms wrapped around Noemi, her head on her shoulder. Noemi herself is sitting on the wooden porch, her face buried in her knees, which are pulled up to her chest. Yeci looks at the pair, her worry restrained. Abby is walking back to them, looking awfully angry about. . . well, they're about to find out.

Quinn, who had merely glanced outside in fear, rushes to the doorway, pushing Zim and Keef out of the way. "_Noemi_!" he gasps, quickly becoming a nervous wreck. "What happened to Noemi?"

"We'll find out," Zim insists darkly, making enough room for himself to walk outside. Quinn follows, gnawing on his lip. Keef wanders outside after them, his expression just screaming curiosity. Dib, who had been staring in their direction in shock and wonder, smoothens out his hair before cautiously getting out of bed to follow them.

"Hey!" Zim shouts out just as Dib closes the door behind him. "What in the name of your filthy planet is going on?"

A good fifteen yards away, Abby, who is bending down to coax Noemi as well, narrows her eyes at Zim. "None of your damn business, _Zim_!" Dib tries not to smile, loving the way she says Zim's name. Full of hatred and bitterness, just the way Zim's name should be said.

Zim practically launches himself off of the cabin porch trying to attack Abby. Thankfully Dib is there to yank on the back of his collar, glaring down at him. "Zim! _Control_ yourself!" Zim just growls at him, scornfully returning the glare. Dib looks back to the girls, making sure to keep a firm grip on the back of Zim's baggy pajama shirt, which must be at _least_ four sizes too big. "Sorry, Abby," she apologizes, forcing a smile onto his face. "He's just. . . concerned, is all."

Abby frowns, scrunching her thin mouth to one side. "_Suuure_." She spares a look to the side, frown spreading out across her face again. "If you _really must know_, some raccoons ran by the cabins just before you guys came out."

Zim's face goes full-on deadpan. "_Really._"

Abby nods matter-of-factly. "Really."

Zim lunges forward again, shouting, "_Lies!_ You _lie_, Earth Dirt! You_ liiieee_!" Dib is taken by surprise by the sudden movement, and has to wrap his arms around Zim's waist to stop him from tripping over the porch steps.

The universe just loves to prove Zim wrong. This fact is blissfully confirmed when a stray raccoon rushes past the cabin, its tail following it like a streak of calligraphy paint. Noemi shrieks, recoiling as she scrambles backwards. Zim just stares at it in surprise, relaxing into Dib's arms.

"Oh. Well then, what's wrong with the purple-headed one?"

Abby rolls her eyes, sneering. "_Noemi_ got bit by one." Noemi looks up at her with teary eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but Abby shushes her before she gets the chance. "_Shh._ It's okay, I know you're upset. . ."

Quinn's eyes look like they might pop out of his head. "She was _bitten_?" he shrieks, his face paling. "Sh-she could have _rabies_!" He clutches his shirt, staring at them in horrified silence.

"Abby. . . ," Noemi says in almost a scolding tone, her eyes beginning to narrow at Abby.

Abby, on the other hand, doesn't miss a single beat. "Yeah," she says seriously. "We're gonna take her to the nurse's office though, she'll be _fine_." She gives them what looks like an _extremely_ forced smile, helping Noemi to her feet. On her other side, Tix has already stepped back from Noemi, letting her arms fall to her sides. "You guys can go, we'll be okay on our own."

"Okay. . . ," says Dib, eying them oddly. His eyes grow wide as he notices how he's still holding Zim close to his chest. He releases him, feeling his cheeks grow warm. He takes a few quick steps to the door, opening it and walking back inside. The others follow, none of them looking particularly happy.

Keef's expression can be best described as worry—his eyebrows slanted slightly, his mouth caught up in a simple pout. "Poor Noemi. . . ," he says, walking to his bed and sitting on the edge of it.

"Yes. . . ," Zim says carefully, scowling. He hardly seems worried—he looks more angry than anything. "Well, it's her fault for not being more careful."

Quinn, still standing by the doorway, covers his hands with his eyes, letting out a tearful moan. Keef looks at him, more worried than Dib has ever seen him. "Quinn, it's okay. . . Abby said she'll be fine. . ."

Quinn lets out another sharp cry, hunching his shoulders as a few stray tears fall down his cheeks. "B-but what if she's n-_not_?" he blubbers. "What if she's _not_?"

**AN- 1,826 words! A new record! This chapter was actually going to be MUCH longer, but I decided to cut it short. I'll have time for long-ass chapters later. . .**

**Now, about the raccoon thing. . . that actually happened. I was Quinn in that scenario . . . except I didn't have a mad crush on the girl that got bit. XD SPOILERS! Not. Yes, in case you're too dense to tell, Quinn has a little crush on Noemi here. Why? I don't know, I just thought it was really cute. That, and she's the only NICE girl around. . .**


	7. For What It's Worth

**AN- So. . . it's been a while, huh? Sorry, school started. But I'm back and better than ever! More ZaDR, more Keef, more camping, more fun! YEAH!**

**A bit off topic, but Zim's blush'll be pink now. Okay? Okay. Sorry for the change, but canon is canon.**

_6- Zim is actually really cuddly._

_7- Noemi got bit by a raccoon._

_8- Now everyone is sad._

_9- Even __**Keef**__._

Thank the _Tallests_ they're serving waffles for breakfast. Zim is _starving_. He picks up a tray and rushes towards the assembly line. Yes, the food here is _much_ better than the skool cafeteria food.

He grins as he reaches the woman serving the food, holding out his tray for her to place the food on. She stacks two waffles onto his plate, and Zim's toothy smile grows as he walks to the condiments table. Once there, he picks up a syrup bottle, drizzling an unhealthy amount of the substance onto his delicious breakfast pastries. He sets the half-empty bottle down, snatches a butter packet, and briskly walks to the table, where Keef and Quinn already sit.

Keef is munching on a waffle, past stress already forgotten, while Quinn stares at his waffles, poking them half-heartedly with his fork. Zim sits down, making sure to keep a good distance away from them both. They don't matter right now. _Waffles_ matter.

He rips open the butter packet, emptying its contents onto the waffles. Not wanting to waste time, he decides to dive right in, digging the side of his fork into the stack of waffles. Breaking off a good chunk of waffley goodness, he chows down, purring happily as the taste spreads over every inch of his mouth.

Dib approaches from behind, warily eyeballing Zim. He's definitely in good mood this morning, especially considering the previous events. He wonders vaguely if it has to do with last night, before brushing the thought aside, shaking his head. No. It's just. . . the waffles, that's it. It's just the waffles. . .

Does Zim even remember last night? Dib honestly isn't quite sure. He didn't ask why he was in Dib's bed, but then again, he didn't mention it, either. . . Dib remembers last night; every detail of it—from the quiet sounds of Zim crying, to the rumbling of the thunder, to the way Zim wrapped his arms around his neck, weeping into his shoulder. . . He even remembers kissing Zim, and that kills him. He wanted to _forget_ about the kiss! But _no_—once again, the universe decides to screw him over.

So what if it was just a little peck on the forehead. He still wants to forget all about it.

But as he sits down next to Zim, he realizes there's some strange urge burning inside of his chest. Maybe one telling him to do it again. . .? He denies the idea, but it still lingers there, prompting several questions to arise. Would it be another forehead kiss, or would he just lift Zim's chin up and smash their lips together? Would Zim kiss him back? Would Dib _enjoy_ it? And what does Zim taste like, anyways? _Argggh,_ no! He massages the area just above the bridge of his nose. His head doesn't hurt, but he sort of wishes it did.

He looks down at his waffles and, after deciding he's not very hungry, turns to look at Zim, who's very busy scarfing down his own waffles. Dib is somewhat surprised that Zim likes waffles so much, especially after the whole incident with the soap. . . But it _is_ one of the only human foods that he can digest.

He studies Zim for a moment, like he often does. He really has changed a lot since they met. He's taller, for one. The more prominent, however, is the change in disguise. Last summer, Zim got rid of his odd wig with the widow's peak and strange, pointy tuft of hair. (Though Dib _really_ shouldn't be talking.) This current wig is a bit longer—sort of shaggy, in fact. It lacks large, pointy tufts, but there is a small bit of hair near the top that always sticks up. It still feels odd, even after a year, but the change is sort of. . . dare he say it. . . cute? No, no, _no_. Rewind, backtrack! Zim is _not_ cute. He's a dangerous alien menace and should be treated as such.

His eyes fall to Zim's pajama shirt, which is _much_ too big for someone his size. It's so big, in fact, that it falls to one side, revealing his neck and shoulder. Dib finds himself staring at the exposed green skin, his mind drifting and—_gah!_ What is _wrong_ with him?! His face grows hot, and he stares at his waffles, trying to rid his mind of such idiotic thoughts.

He is _not _attracted to Zim. Nuh-uh. No way. Not in any way, shape, or form. He just can't be! He's built up a wall of hatred and kept it standing strong much to long for it all to come crashing down. . . right?

He prods his waffles with his fork, warily. He feels sick. Well, maybe it's not _sick_, but he feels some sort of nervousness down in the pit of his stomach. Finally, deciding that humans have to eat to survive, he cuts off a piece of his waffles and chomps on it, frowning as he chews and swallows. He can hardly focus on _eating_, his mind is so full.

Keef quickly moves his eyes up from his waffles, taking a brief glance at Dib and Zim, before riveting them back down again. The sexual tension is _already_ unbearable, and this is only their second day! To think what could develop during the rest of the week. . . Keef can hardly hide his smile. He shudders a bit in sheer excitement, not wanting to wait another moment to set them up together. He exhales slightly, reminding himself that patience is a virtue. He can wait. . .

It is at this moment that Mr. Whitemore pops in, smile on his face as always. "So!" he starts off, smile just lingering. Zim frowns, a bit of syrup dribbling down his chin. "Weather report says there's no rain, and today seems like the perfect day to go out camping, don't you think?" He smiles hopefully.

From a few tables over, Tix looks at him funny. She's high-maintenance, it looks like. She's got the whole deal in terms of pajamas—pink robe, teddy bear sleeping mask, and fuzzy slippers. "Aren't we, I dunno. . . _already_ camping?" she asks, making a face.

"Well, _yes_," says Mr. Whitemore, "but I meant out in the woods!" He smiles again, and this time it's more hopeful than ever.

Of course, reactions are less than enthusiastic. Abby shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. Tix's irked expression grows. Noemi blinks, looking at Mr. Whitemore with interest looming over her. Zim chews and swallows, slowly. Quinn leans back in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable. Dib smiles (he's always liked the woods), but decides it's best to stay quiet. His smile is absolutely _nothing_ compared to Keef's, of course. Keef looks so happy he might just burst. Then again, without any blue goo, Dib highly doubts that.

But just as Keef is about to speak up, the strangest thing happens. "I'd like that," says Yeci, smiling ever-so-slightly. Every head in the Angel camp group turns to her, completely bewildered. Dib wasn't aware Yeci _could_ smile, let alone _like_ anything. Those dark eyes and gloomy glares were more than just deceiving, because here she was.

"Wha. . . _what?!_" says Abby incredulously, half-glaring at her cabinmate.

"I like the woods," says Yeci, giving a small shrug—the most nonchalant reply possible to their shocked reactions—"It's dark."

Said shocked reactions faded away, a few kids giving out sighs of relief. That is, except for Keef, who had hardly been affected in the first place. "Oh, I know!" cries Keef, bouncing in his seat. "You can carry around lanterns and catch fireflies!" Quickly, he turns to Mr. Whitemore, beaming. "Will there be fireflies?!" he asks in a rush.

Mr. Whitemore's smile is soft, and he shakes his head apologetically. "Not until July, usually. Sorry."

"Oh," mumbles Keef, smile fading for what must have been a fraction of a second. "Well, maybe we'll get lucky!" he suggests, smile returning and just as bright as ever.

"Maybe," says Mr. Whitemore with a chuckle.

"It would be a miracle!" cries Keef, before continuing to go on about the wonders of lightning bugs. Mr. Whitemore listens, adding in a word or a laugh every so often. Quinn looks at him, and Dib could have sworn he saw a smile for a second. Abby looks up at them, before looking back down at her coffee cup, shaking her head. Tix ignores them, staring in her compact mirror, while Noemi smiles and listens, adding in her own opinion now and then.

From beside him, Dib hears Zim mumble, "Fire. . . flies. . . ?" It's too soft for anyone but Dib to hear, and he has to stare at his waffles to hide his smile. He's so clueless. . . it's almost—_almost!_—cute. But it's not. Just. . . almost.

He looks up again, catching sight of Yeci. And when he does, he's not sure how he missed it before. Sometimes people just don't notice things. Sometimes, however, people _do_ notice things. And sometimes people notice people. And sometimes, just _sometimes_, people change other people. This must be the case, because Yeci's smile is lighting up the room.

Funny how Keef talks about miracles without knowing he may have just created one himself.

**AN- 1,568 words! Wheeee!**

**WOAH. Am I trying to make Yeci **_**likeable**_**? Maybeeeee. . . actuallyitwascompletelyunpla nned. So, yeah. . . she miiiiiight like Keef, but I'm really strict about OC shipping. . . it'd be cute, though.**

**I promise I'll try to update more often. This story is actually really fun to write.**

**And while you're here, why don't ya check out my YouTube account? Lotsa Invader Zim goodness over there. webkinzfungirl101 is the account name. . . it's old, okay? :0**

**Also, I think you guys would LOVE my new little tumblr ask blog, **_**Ask Zim and Dib**_**. It contains eventual ZaDR! Feel free to pop in a question, you don't need a tumblr account! ask-zimanddib . tumblr . com (Just take away those pretty lil spaces, kay?)**


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